Not Just Queer
by Dem0nFl0wer
Summary: 1x2. AU. Duo's just a young boy growing up in a working class neighborhood. Just like his father, he's an extraordinarily good boxer. But what if he doesn't want to box? What if he wants to do ballet instead?


Not Just Queer  
Chapter One  
  
  
"I don't know why you bother."  
  
"I'm good at it, that's why."  
  
"But you don't like it."  
  
"There's more to it then that, Trowa." Duo sighed as he looked at his brown-haired friend. The boy was sitting against the wall of the building, eyes staring out into the alley. As if there were something interesting there to look at. Duo didn't understand why Trowa always had to be so analytical about everything... there were more factors at stake here. "Look, I have to go."  
  
And then he opened the door and disappeared into the building, Trowa never moving from his position.  
  
* * *  
  
The bell clang in Duo's ears, and than suddenly he was on the defensive. Pouncing from one foot to another, he silmutaneously blocked out and fed on the adoring calls of his peers.  
  
"Go, Duo!"  
  
"Give him your patented right hook!"  
  
He dodged a blow, than pulled back his arm, landing a hit as his opponent left himself open. A few more turns around the ring and the match was over.  
  
"KO!"  
  
Duo spit out his mouthguard, leaning over the fallen boy. "You okay?"  
  
"Umm... yeah."  
  
Duo helped the guy to his feet, then climbed out of the ring to be greeted by his coach.  
  
"That must have been a record, Duo. You're one hell of a boxer."  
  
Duo smiled. "Thanks, Treize."  
  
Suddenly Duo was aware of another presence, and he turned to see his older brother Solo staring at him with the Maxwell grin on his face.  
  
"Dad would be proud."  
  
Duo blushed in embarassment at the comment, looking downwards at his feet. "I hope so."  
  
"Why don't you get changed," Solo continued to beam at his little brother, "and meet me in the car."  
  
Duo smiled and nodded, making his way to the adjoining locker room. Inwardly, he was glowing with Solo's praise. He knew it meant a lot to the older boy that he continued his father's hobby. He took off his boxing gloves, laying them gently on the bench beside him, remembering just how much. Those gloves were a memento from a man he barely remembered, a keepsake that belonged to his father, and his father before that.  
  
He packed up his stuff and left the room, slinging his pack over his shoulder. As he made his way out of the building, strands of piano music wafted towards his ears, growing louder as he neared the main door. Almost unconsciously, he stopped outside the source of the sound, in this case a classroom where a ballet lesson was taking place. A line of girls practiced along a bar, twisting with the awkward grace of ethusiastic novices. Duo inched closer to the classroom, intending to get a closer view, when a stern brown haired woman appeared and closed the door on him.   
  
Slightly offended, Duo started to make his way to Solo's car. He didn't need to be watching a ballet lesson anyway. It's not like he found it interesting or anything.  
  
* * *  
  
Duo picked up the dirty dishes and made his way to the sink, filling it up with soapy water.  
  
"You know, I can do that."  
  
"It's ok, Aunt Helen. I've got it."  
  
His father's sister leaned against the counter, mousy brown hair falling in her face, a cigarette to her lips. Herbal, because she was trying to quit. "You boys are something."  
  
After since their parents' deaths the boys had been living with her, and now Duo couldn't imagine ever living differently.  
  
"Solo left you the twenty-five dollars on the counter." And then she made her way out of the room, probably to recoup from one of her frequent migraines.  
  
Duo dried the last of the dishes, walking over to pick up the money guiltily. Helen didn't work, having retired a few years before. Solo ran a car garage, but even that wasn't doing too well, not when the competition could afford to be more efficient. As of now, they were living in a small apartment in a working class district, and barely scraping by as it was, yet Solo still managed to save twenty-five dollars a week to send him to boxing class. And he didn't even enjoy going. Duo sighed, grabbing his things and running out of the house before he was late...  
  
Punch... duck... punch... Duo ran through the movements on a punching bag, the vinyl creaking as he pounded into it.  
  
"Good hustle, Duo," Treize watched as his star student finished his workout, gleaming at the thought that the boy might have what it took to get to the state championship. "Hey, do me a favor?"  
  
Duo was starting to unwrap the black tape around his hands, getting ready to walk home. "Yeah?"  
  
"I rent the room next door to a ballet class. Would you go over there and collect this month's payment?"  
  
Duo nodded as he skipped out of his training shoes and started to walk down the hallway, pushing open the door to the other classroom. As he slipped on his black boots he in the process he got a raised eyebrow from the instructor.   
  
"Excuse me," he said, approaching her, "Mr. Krushenada said y..."  
  
"Not now," she said, in a tone that boded no argument. She then went back to instructing the girls, calling out position and movement names.  
  
"But..."  
  
"I said," and here she turned around to give him a murderous glare, "not now."  
  
Duo sighed and stood there for awhile, then curiously made his way closer to the girls. When the instructor didn't object to his proximity to the dancers, he came even closer, standing directly on the other side of the bar.  
  
"Why don't you join in?" asked a girl with short, black hair, lifting her leg into the air.  
  
Duo snorted in distaste. "Because I'm not a sissy."  
  
"He just can't do it." Stated a voice, and when Duo turned he was surprised to see it came from a boy. He had a cherubic face, framed by blond curls.  
  
"I can so," responded Duo, "I just don't want to."  
  
"Prove it."  
  
Never one to back down a challenge, Duo squeezed in between two girls on the bar, and started to copy their moves. Really, it wasn't so hard, and Duo found he was replicating the moves effortlessly. And when the lesson was over, he found himself slightly disappointed.   
  
"You owe me twenty-five dollars." Duo turned to find himself face to face with the instructor. Or he would have been face to face, if he were several inches taller.  
  
"I don't owe you anything!"  
  
"Of course you do, for the lesson today. It doesn't matter, you can bring it next week."  
  
"I'm not coming next week. I'm a boxer, not some girly dancer."  
  
"You're built like a dancer, not a boxer."  
  
Duo seethed, taking it as an insult, when the instructor turned her back and left.  
  
"Come, or don't, it doesn't matter to me. But you had fun today, admit it."  
  
Just as the woman disappeared, the blond haired boy from before came up to him. "Une's eccentric, but she's ok. You'll get used to her."  
  
"No, I won't get used to her, because I won't be coming back." Duo turned to look at the boy, who was smiling up at him. "What are you, some kind of queer?"  
  
"No," the boy didn't seem fazed. "I just like to dance. There are a lot of guy dancers."  
  
"Oh yeah? Like who?"  
  
"Well, not here, but in other places. Anyway, you're really good. Even I can see that."   
  
"Whatever." Duo turned around and started to walk out of the room, somewhat annoyed at the turn of events. He hadn't even gotten the money from Une.  
  
"My name's Quatre," the boy called after him, "by the way."  
  
"Like I care."  
  
* * *  
  
Duo eyed the twenty-five dollars in his hand wearily. Another week, another boxing lesson. He never really minded before, why was it bothering him all of the sudden?  
  
"Hey Duo," Solo called from the bathroom, "I'm going over to Catherine's. Do you need a ride?"  
  
"No thanks, I'll walk."  
  
The older boy suddenly appeared at the doorway, cheap aftershave in hand. "Are you okay?"  
  
Duo flashed him a grin. "Yeah, I'm great."  
  
"All right...knock them dead, kid."  
  
Duo lifted up his things and left the house, gripping the money in his hand. It was for boxing, after all... but when he got to the building, he couldn't bring himself to take a step past the ballet room. As he was standing outside the door, a hand fell onto his shoulder.  
  
"Back so soon?"  
  
Duo looked up into Une's smirking face, and slowly, he nodded.  
  
* * *  
  
"So you're using the money for ballet lessons now?"   
  
"Yeah..." Duo looked back at Trowa, expecting to see scorn on his best friend's face, but encountered a neutral mask instead. It figured, the boy had maybe two different facial expressions.  
  
"Do you wear a tutu?"  
  
"Ummm... no. Tutus are for girls."  
  
"I don't know, I think you'd look nice in one."  
  
Duo blinked. "... thanks, I guess."  
  
Trowa nodded. "So what does Solo think about this?"  
  
"Are you kidding? He doesn't know. He'd probably kill me."  
  
"Probably."  
  
* * *  
  
Solo led his girlfriend to a barstool, turning around when he felt a tap on his shoulder. "Treize, hi!"  
  
He smiled at the ginger haired man, calling out over the raucous noise of the bar.  
  
"Hi, Solo, I just wanted to talk to you about Duo. You know, if the classes are too much for you, I don't mind teaching him for free. The twenty-five dollars isn't that important to me."  
  
Solo looked at Treize in confusion. "What? What are you talking about?"  
  
"Duo, he hasn't come to classess for weeks now. I had assumed it was because of you financial problems, but... oh God, Duo's not sick, is he?"  
  
Solo shook his head dazedly at Treize's question. "No, no he's not."  
  
"Oh." Treize blinked, confused, before the crowd and his friends pulled him away from the younger man.  
  
Solo, on the other hand, was inwardly seething. What had Duo been doing all this time?  



End file.
